


easy

by driveshaft



Category: Lost
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driveshaft/pseuds/driveshaft
Summary: he thinks it's because he's waited long enough.
Relationships: James "Sawyer" Ford/Jack Shephard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	easy

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i know jack/sawyer isn't a terribly popular ship around here but... i love them and i hope you enjoy regardless :)

_i._

Jack is tired.

The kind of tired he hasn't seen since he was in med school, far too young to already be so exhausted, or doing rounds at the crack of dawn, or coming home to an empty apartment after another thirteen-hour day in surgery. 

His eyes burn when he shuts them. A dull, throbbing pain brews behind his temples, pounds at the back of his skull. It'll turn into something much worse later on. 

He wanders out towards the shore, directionless, and stares at the blue waves crashing gentle against the sand. Leans against the stem of a palm tree, pinches the bridge of his nose as if it would somehow help things.

(It doesn't. He didn’t expect it to.)

A little later the sun sets in the distance, seemingly disappearing into the ocean; it's probably around six in the evening, if Jack's guessing (not that it - _time_ \- really matters anymore, Jack reminds himself, keeps reminding himself), and Jack - 

Jack really, really wants a cigarette. Needs a cigarette. 

Sawyer's got the last pack; they go quick around here. Jack knows this. Sawyer also (and Jack knows _this_ , too) sure as hell isn't going to share any with him. 

But Jack's desperate, and he thinks it's worth a shot, and in his desperation he treks over to Sawyer's tent. He catches himself staring at the cigarette between Sawyer's lips for a moment too long. 

It's a last-ditch effort, and Jack knows it full well. 

"Doc," Sawyer turns a page in his book (and Jack squints hard but he can't really make out what's on the cover), glances up at Jack with raised brows. "Fancy seein' you here. What can I do ya for?"

Jack blinks. He's tired, and he really needs a cigarette. He tells Sawyer as much. 

"Huh. Never would’ve guessed you were a smoker," Sawyer chuckles. He toys with the carton in his hands, almost like he's considering it. "Y'know, since you’re also a doctor and all... Ain't that somethin'?"

"I..." Jack drops his gaze. Drops his voice, too. "I've tried to quit, uh... too many times, and it's never really stuck. I didn't bring any with me on the plane because—"

"Ah," Sawyer cuts in, nodding, and something tells Jack he gets it. 

He pulls one from the pack, offers it with an extended arm and a smile that makes Jack’s breath catch in his throat. 

"Thanks," Jack mumbles, fumbling with the lighter Sawyer had let him borrow. He hasn't done this in a while; a few minutes pass before he's able to get a firm flame. 

Sawyer is quiet for once, and his eyes linger on Jack even longer than Jack's had on Sawyer's lips earlier, and all of a sudden Jack is feeling very lightheaded. 

Jack clears his throat, gives the lighter back. He takes a long pull.

"Don't be a stranger," Sawyer drawls, grinning when Jack starts on the walk across the beach back to his own tent. Jack can barely hear him call out, "And, hey - don't worry, doc, your secret's safe with me." 

Jack smiles. Something in his chest tightens.

* * *

_ii._

"Stay _still_ , dammit," Jack mutters. 

It's Sawyer, though, and Sawyer's _difficult_. He does things for the hell of it, just to spite him, it seems - so it's only logical that Sawyer doesn't quit moving. Jack expects it; he still grits his teeth. 

He eventually cleans up Sawyer's arm. Sawyer struggles a little. It's nothing Jack isn't used to already.

And then Jack sits there quietly, staring down at bloodied bandages, and he can’t figure out why it bothers him so much to think of Sawyer kissing Kate, why the thought of them together makes his stomach drop. He shouldn’t care; Kate and Sawyer can kiss whoever the hell they want, but - god, if it doesn’t just _get_ to him...

He shouldn't have gone along with Sayid earlier. He should've been the one to take a knife to the arm because he can't stand to see Sawyer in pain, and Sawyer claims - _insists_ , really, with his eyes all narrowed as if that’ll prove his point - that _he's fine, goddammit,_ but Jack knows better. 

("Whatever you say, tough guy," Jack teases him later that night, and his voice almost breaks. 

Sawyer almost laughs.)

It all hurts a little more than it should.

* * *

_iii._

Sawyer needs glasses, and Jack ends up going to Sayid. 

Asks him to help make Sawyer a pair, because Jack's no good at that kind of stuff (otherwise he'd do it himself), and Sayid counters it with a furrowed brow and a _why are you doing this_ , _Jack, you know he wouldn't do the same for you,_ and Jack only shrugs it off and tells him _Sawyer's not_ that _bad._

(And Sayid doesn't buy it, and Sayid never _will_ buy it, and maybe he’s right to never buy it. Maybe Jack is wrong after all - 

But Jack would like to think Sawyer would do the same for him; hell, he had given Jack one of his cigarettes, and that counts for something as far as Jack's concerned.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking.) 

"Dude," Hurley says later, turns to look at Jack as they sit on the beach. "You totally like him, don't you?"

Jack nearly spits out the sip of water he'd just taken. "Excuse me?" 

"Sawyer." 

The blush on Jack's cheeks probably gives him away, but he still shrugs Hurley’s question off and says, "Hurley, this isn't middle school, I'm not gonna answer that—" 

"Yeah, whatever, dude,” Hurley interrupts with a grin, “You totally like him.”

* * *

_iv._

"Make it hurt," Jack begs, eyes watery. His shirt is still soaked with Boone's blood when he barges into Sawyer's tent and climbs on top of him - he hadn’t bothered to change, came straight here and he can’t help but feel a bit silly because of it; "Please. I want you to hurt me." 

"Whoa, doc, hey. _Easy_ ," Sawyer starts. He grips Jack's waist, fingers digging into hip bones, steadying him. Jack only grinds his hips down against Sawyer's, pulling a short-lived moan from his lips, and then Sawyer's shaking his head and saying, "Dammit, Jack, I ain't gonna hurt you. Why don't you—"

Jack interrupts, and he hardly recognizes his own voice when he does - it's a bit too desperate, a bit too angry, "You wouldn't have a problem with it any other night, Sawyer, just fuck me and _make it hurt—_ "

"Jesus," Sawyer hisses, his mouth set firm in a thin line. He narrows his eyes, looks at Jack like he's crazy. It's more than enough to shut Jack up. "This ain't _any other night._ "

He's right. He's _right_ and Jack squeezes his eyes shut with a whimper. A few tears leak out anyway and they sting, heavy behind his eyelids with something Jack can't seem to place, something he's never come close to experiencing before. He never wants to again, because -

He closes his eyes and he sees Boone, nearly unrecognizable with blood caked to his skin, marring his features and staining his clothes, spilling from lips that are tinged a sickly shade of grey. Maybe it’s blue. Jack almost screams. 

( _“I’m letting you off the hook,”_ he had said earlier; so why does it still hurt so much?) 

"Sorry," he sighs. He rolls off of Sawyer too fast, almost as if he'd been burned, and his face flushes with what feels an awful lot like shame. He shouldn't have come here.

The sand is cool against his back, uneven underneath his limbs, and then he repeats it, louder this time because he wants - _needs_ \- Sawyer to hear it: "I'm sorry." 

"C'mere," Sawyer says, soft. "You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day." 

Jack spends the rest of the night with his face buried in Sawyer's chest. 

He's tired, and it's that same kind of tired he hasn't seen since he was twenty-five and in med school, but he's able to stay awake long enough to catch Sawyer pressing a kiss to the top of his head. One to his temple, too. 

It's the fastest he's fallen asleep since they crashed.

They don’t talk about it tomorrow. 

* * *

_v._

It's humid out and it only makes things even worse. The sun burns hot on his back, sweat causing his clothes to stick uncomfortably to his skin, and for a long, scary moment, Jack feels like he's suffocating. 

He clenches his teeth until his jaw is sore, chews on his lower lip until it bleeds because he doesn't trust himself to speak without immediately breaking down. 

So he stands there, completely silent and with a dull ache in his jaw, and listens to Sawyer, who is, for some reason, telling him about the night he met a doctor while out at a bar down in Sydney and Jack thinks that he might know where this is going.

( _Now, I've been on some benders in my time, but this guy? It’s like he was going for an all time record. One hell of a bender,_ Sawyer had said, and then he chuckled afterwards. 

Jack didn’t.) 

And suddenly Jack has to turn away because - no, his dad had never made that phone call, had never told Jack he was sorry, or that he loved him (always only that he _didn’t have what it takes_ ), and there's a terrible, _terrible_ sinking feeling in his stomach and he hates it, and he wants it to stop, and -

He knows it never will. 

"Dammit," Jack grits, and suddenly his vision is starting to blur. He bites down on his already-split lip again and again to hopefully stop the tears from falling, but - it's no use. Never is. Blood lingers on his tongue, faint. 

He frantically wipes his eyes and, _Christ_ , if it doesn't cut him right to the bone...

"Why are you—" Jack chokes out, dry heaves, after it's all said and done. His throat aches. His heart does, too. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Sawyer's face softens. Jack swallows a sob. 

"'Cause, doc. He loved you," Sawyer pauses, licks his lips (and even now, even _now_ Jack is staring. He wants to laugh). "And you deserve to hear it. Don’t ya think?” 

And then Jack can't take it anymore - he breaks down. He cries, and Sawyer holds him close and rubs slow circles into his back, and they stay like that until Jack's throat is raw and his voice is long gone and Jack wishes his father would’ve said all that to him instead of to a stranger in a bar, and _what are the odds?_

Later, he watches Sawyer leave with Michael and Jin and Walt, and it feels like he's taken a piece of him when he goes and it hurts more than his dad's unspoken words ever did.

Jack knows why. He's known all along.

* * *

_+1._

Sawyer looks beautiful in the early morning light, laying with his legs all sprawled out like he always does. His arms are tight around Jack's waist, and this is all that Jack has ever really wanted, he realizes.

(Or maybe he had realized it a long time ago.) 

Sawyer is smiling - smiling at Jack, no less - and it's almost like time stops. Sometimes Jack wishes it would. 

"Mornin', sweetheart," Sawyer murmurs, half-asleep still, and he leans in and he kisses Jack first and it's all Jack has ever really wanted. Maybe even more. 

( _Sweetheart_. Sawyer had called him sweetheart, too. Not 'doc.')

Jack returns Sawyer's smile when they part, slowly blinking thick sleep from his eyes. “Morning yourself.”

He takes a moment, lets his eyes adjust. Blinks a few more times. Everything shifts into focus then, sudden, and Jack is determined to savor it, cling on to it for as long as he can because right now it's only them. Just him and Sawyer and nothing else; no one needing medical attention, no big adventure through the jungle that Jack will inevitably get roped into going on.

Nothing. 

Just him and Sawyer, and Sawyer's arms feel so good around his waist, Jack thinks to himself (and maybe he says it out loud, too; maybe Sawyer smiles when he does), and Sawyer had just called him _sweetheart_ , not 'doc,’ and he looks beautiful laying there in the morning light. 

"I love you," Jack tells him, and it comes easy. 

He thinks it's because he's waited long enough.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading if you did! pls be nice :)
> 
> might just have to write more in the future because GOD i love jack/sawyer so much and this was so fuckin fun to write.... many thoughts rn......


End file.
